Whispers in the Night
by xReadItAndWeepx
Summary: [Mimato. Some Taiora.] I didn't love an idea. I loved no, love, a woman. I am Ishida Yamato. She was Tachikawa Mimi. This is our story.
1. Introspection

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

"_Remember, remember the fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and plot. I know of now reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot." _

**

* * *

**

**Prelude**  
_Introspection _

Everyone always says that you should remember an idea and not a person. Because people can fail, they can be arrested, broken, and killed. They can be forgotten…

But the idea lives on after them and can even change the course of life hundreds of years after its birth. Ideas are very powerful things. I've seen people fight for them, give up their lives in the hope that the idea they believe in can change the world. It's amazing really…

Yet ideas can't be touched. They can't hold onto you or keep you warm at night. You can't kiss an idea or listen to their breathing as they sleep beside you. Ideas don't breathe, or cry, or bleed and no matter how much you love them, they can't love you back.

Only people can.

And I don't love an idea that's even now working towards a better Japan, a better way of life. I don't miss one now that it's gone. No, I don't mourn an idea. I mourn a woman.

It was a woman after all that opened my eyes after being blind for so long. A woman that got me to think, to feel, to **bleed** when I'd been so numb nothing could have sparked life back into me. She showed me the corruption, the evil of the government that everyone followed and never questioned blind allegiance to.

She was the last person alive in all of Japan that stood up to them, that wouldn't give herself over to them. And with her I did too. We believed in a better tomorrow where people would be free to think for themselves again.

That tomorrow is here.

She should be here now to witness our, **her**, victory.

She should be here…

But no matter how hard I wish she will still be gone. Hopefully somewhere much better than here. She deserves that at least.

I didn't love an idea.

I loved no, **love**, a woman.

I am Ishida Yamato.

She was Tachikawa Mimi.

This is our story.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **Sorry this was so short but this was only the introduction. The actual story begins next chapter. Until then please read and review.


	2. Meeting You

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

"_Fear is the foundation of most governments." _–John Adams

_

* * *

_

_In the year 2012 Japan was home to political unrest. Already at war with China, threats of terrorism, economic plunges, shortages of everything ranging from food to clothing became a part of everyday life. In 2014, with the help of the United States, Japan defeated China, almost completely bankrupting the other country. _

_Unfortunately Japan did not emerge from the fighting unscathed. The government was under a heavy torrent of criticism, with the loudest voices being Sakuma Akito and his company VulcanForge, calling for emergency powers: to suspend habeas corpus, arrest of suspected dissenters, and a suspension of basic rights. _

_The people of Japan were furious of the idea of losing their rights they expected as citizens of the country. Then on November 5, 2016 one of the worst outbreaks in history happened. A bio-engineered virus called Apollo was created by a terrorist group and detonated inside a school, followed closely by similar attacks on a reservoir and food processing plants. _

_Thousands died that week; millions perished within a month. Then on December 12, 2016 the company VulcanForge developed and released a cure to the virus, saving millions upon millions of innocent lives. On February 20, 2017 VulcanForge replaced the active government, with unanimous support, and arrested the terrorist organization responsible. They were executed without trial and their deaths were broadcasted on every news channel in the country. _

_The next action of VulcanForge was to assert fascist polices on the populace. After the tragedy of Apollo no one argued and within weeks detainment centers known as resettlement camps were set up around Japan. Suspected terrorists and dissenters, several minority groups, and anyone of dubious backgrounds were rounded up and placed in them. _

_Mass executions, medical experimentations, and torture were not uncommon though most people had little to no knowledge of any such actions committed by the government. They were shut down on June 8, 2020 and the survivors were allowed to reenter public life, though they were barred from military and government services. It is rumored that the resettlement camps were only shut down because of an incident at the one located in Kyoto two months prior. This has not been proven either way._

_It is now the year 2034 and Japan has evolved into a totalitarian state. _

**

* * *

**

**Chapter One**  
_Meeting You_

The digital clock on the wall flashed '11:15 PM' in blazing green numerals and the small apartment was quite except for the distant murmurs of the almost completely muted television built into the grimy wall. A musty mattress with threadbare blankets and sheets, a moth-eaten pillow, was propped up on a rusty framework in the very center of the living room/bedroom; a naked bulb, supplying the dreary living space with the barest luminance, dangled from the ceiling on a metal chain.

A diminutive bathroom with only a toilet(that usually backed up), a black plunger resting next to the toilet, a rusty sink that in a former life had been marble white, a shattered mirror, and a shower with only the most flimsy of curtains separating it from the outside world. (It would also be good to know that the water running in the entire dreary place only came in two temperatures: scalding hot or freezing cold.) That was through a door on the right.

The only other room was the kitchen which consisted of a metallic table, a wooden chair standing on rickety legs, a sink, and a vomit green refrigerator. The tiles in the kitchen floor were black and white and had stains from beer, different types of food, blood, and others from unidentifiable sources. It was too the left of the main room.

Overall the place reeked of cigarettes and a very faint whiff of that kind of cheap beer that everyone thinks is disgusting but drinks all the time anyway because they can't afford anything better. There was a rat living in the walls and quite possibly a few spiders, though there wasn't any conclusive evidence of their existence. It was a horrible place to live in…and who did live here anyway?

The owner was twenty-five year old Ishida Yamato, caustic and bitter, and downright pissed off at everyone. He was incredibly handsome with messy blonde hair falling to his shoulders, guarded sea blue eyes, a high cheekboned face, pale skin, and small but firm whipcord muscles. He wore a black tee shirt whose hem went past the top of his blue jeans that were worn almost to whiteness, a pair of dog tags that hit against his chest as he walked, and black socks with holes in the heels.

He rummaged through the apartment, a cigarette held in the corner of his mouth and dripping a cylindrical trail of ash onto his shirt sleeve, and a plastic bag filled to the brim with white powder. Muttering dark things under his breath he threw the bag on the kitchen table, and pulled from the drawer a black handled knife and several smaller plastic bags.

Spilling the contents of the larger bag out on the table, he threw the useless bag over his shoulder where it landed slowly on the floor, and picked up the knife to cut the stuff even smaller; no one wanted to buy it while it was still pure, it would kill them. Cutting and separating the powdery substance, he deposited it among the smaller bags and sealed them tight.

He tucked the knife into the waist band of his jeans, his shirt hiding it effectively, and picking up the packets he walked to the door, slipping on a long leather duster as he went. Making sure the little bags were out of sight, the knife was still in place, and fishing out a new cigarette he bent on one knee to the floor. He pounded his fist on a certain floor board and it came loose; pulling if off he observed the small hiding space of his most treasured belongings.

A small framed photograph of his family, a silver harmonica his father had given him, a book or two, his parents wedding bands, and his younger brother's old green hat. He smiled softly before putting the board back in place and leaving the apartment, door slamming behind him.

* * *

"_This city is a hellhole…though it's not like there's anything better out there," _thought Yamato as he strode down the street, ducking his face from the roving cameras on top of stoplights and lampposts. Rain fell from the grey sky in sheets and he ignored his fellow pedestrians and the calls from the homeless in allies and prostitutes, men and women, pacing on street corners. 

He growled as he nearly tripped over a nearly invisible hole in the sidewalk pavement and shoved his hands violently into his pockets. After **The War **parts of the cities and towns could not be rebuilt to their former glory and no matter the location these places were called Tartarus. Everywhere else in Japan was enormously wealthy or more middle class suburban type places.

Not that everywhere else in the world was that much better off. The North and South Americas were at war with each other, most of Western Europe was the same as Japan while Ireland and Scotland were ruled by various gangs. Eastern Europe was almost exactly in the state it was in before **The War** with the exception of following an Isolationism policy. The continents of Africa and Australia had been completely obliterated by nuclear warfare and Antarctica had been divided up by the more powerful countries in the world for research areas. China, India, Korea, Vietnam and many of the small Asian countries had allied and formed one super country known as Shangri-La.

"_This is probably what Hell is like…" _

He turned down an alley and found himself in front of an abandoned club that had seen better days. The walls were invisible under layers of graffiti, the windows had been broken by what looked like rocks, and the door was hanging off its hinges. Inside was completely bare, a fine layer of dust covered the floor, and he could hear the scurrying of rats somewhere in the darkness.

Yamato sighed, leaning against the wall, and looked at the watch on his slim wrist. He gritted his teeth; his clients were fifteen minutes late. He stood in the dark for close to an hour, teeth aching from all the grinding, and he was about to leave when a man hurriedly dashed inside.

The newcomer was short and stocky with unkempt black hair, emerald eyes, skin with the barest of tans, and an angular face. He wore an expensive business suit under a tan trench coat and a pair of sneakers; he was out of breath and apparently had run most of the way here.

"You're late," stated Yamato coldly.

His client nodded absentmindedly, either not noticing the blonde's tone or just not bothering to care, and fished a wallet out of his pocket. "Do you have it?"

Yamato scowled and pulled a packet out of his pocket, holding it between thumb and index finger. "Heroin…twenty bucks a pack."

The man chuckled. "This is your first time dealing isn't it?"

"So what if it is? You got a problem with it?"

"Actually I do," the stranger replied and flashed his id at the blonde who his color had diminished greatly. "I just love seeing people's reactions to this. Priceless…"

"You're a Spartan!" gasped Yamato, backing away towards the window. The man stepped forward but Yamato had climbed through it, only to be pushed inside by a second man. Another man strode inside the room, leering at the blonde.

Spartans were the secret police of VulcanForge, ruthless and covert, they carried out their operations quietly; an entire family could be arrested one night and not discovered gone until a few days later. Unlike the first agent the other two were dressed in the standard uniform: black caps, dark glasses that hid their eyes and reflected everything in the room, a black vest over a navy shirt, and black pants and combat boots.

"Let's show the kid what we do to drug dealers in our city," spoke the first man, obviously their leader. They approached him slowly in a circle preventing him from escaping; one of them brought out a club.

"You can't do that! It's against the law!"

The leader arched an eyebrow as the other two laughed loudly. "We're the police, kid. We never said we cared about the law."

He was in deep shit…

* * *

Twenty minutes later Yamato was lying face down on the floor, beaten and bloody. His face was smeared with his blood and bluish black bruises; his knuckles were skinned from when he had tried to fight back; his chest burned horribly; and he couldn't stand up. 

Around him the Spartan bastards were joking and smirking at each other; they had confiscated all the heroin on his person and had taken the knife from him. The leader was twirling the blade on his fingers, admiring the way it looked with stains from Yamato's blood on it.

Yamato groaned as the older man knelt by his head, grinning wickedly, and blatantly examining the blade. He grabbed locks of the younger man's hair and pulled his face up; he held the blade to the blonde's cheek threateningly.

"Let's cut that pretty boy face of yours…"

He pressed the knife deeper into Yamato's skin, drawing more blood, and was about to drag it down from cheek to chin when a musical voice interrupted with:

"Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?"

At the unexpected voice four pairs of eyes turned to stare at a young woman leaning on the doorframe, observing them all. She had long naturally wavy honey hair that flowed to her waist, creamy skin, and a lithe figure. Her face from her forehead to her upper lip could not be seen because she wore a mask over it; the mask was ceramic and completely white save for the black tracks starting from under her eyes and stopping at the edge, to give the impression of her perpetually crying black tears.

Her eyes, not covered by the mask, were a warm shade of brown that could only be described as cinnamon and she wore a long, leather coat whose hem rested at her ankles. Her soft pink shirt was held up at her shoulders by straps and stopped five inches above her naval, and her pants were black leather that emphasized the curves in her legs. For shoes she wore black leather boots that rose up to her knees so no one would be able to tell exactly where the pants ended and the boots began.

"Who the fuck are you?" demanded one of the Spartans.

"Everyone," was her simple answer.

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes: **  
_Apollo: _Apollo is the son of Zeus and Leto, twin brother of Artemis, and has dominion over plague, light, healing, as well as various others. During the Trojan War he shot arrows of plague at the Greek encampment and in the Odyssey he sank the ship of Odysseus and his crew, killing everyone but the great hero.

_VulcanForge: _Vulcan is the son of Zeus and Hera, god of fire and smiths, the husband of the goddess Aphrodite (Venus) and is one of the twelve great Olympian gods. In Greek mythology he is known as Hephaestus.

_Tartarus: _Tartarus was the domain of the god of death Hades (Pluto). It is located under the earth and can also be known as Underworld or Hell.

_Shangri-La: _Shangri-La is a fictional paradise where anyone who stays there will never grow old and die. When people leave Shangri-La the imediately age and die.

_Spartans: _The Spartans were the feircest Greek warriors; they beleived that fighting was the most important thing in life. From a young age men and women underwent rigourous physical training: men to be soilders and women to give birth to soldiers.

"_Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?" : _This is a Latin phrase that translates as: "Who watches the watchmen?"

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **That's all for now. Please read and review.


	3. Mimi

**Author's Notes: **This story is based on V for Vendetta, but not the movie. I haven't seen the movie yet, but I read the graphic novel version and it was awesome. I recommend it.

* * *

"_Anarchism has but one infallible, unchangeable motto, 'Freedom.' Freedom to discover any truth, freedom to develop, to live naturally and fully."_-Lucy Parsons

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two**  
_Mimi_

The leader, still holding the knife to the flesh of Yamato's face, snarled at the answer. "You're a fucking lunatic, woman." His countenance twisted into an unpleasant scowl he nodded at the other two Spartans. "Take care of it."

The two men advanced on the woman, who was just standing still, making no move to flee. On closer inspection, Yamato who had stopped noticing the knife now that it had stopped moving, saw that she let out a long, deep breath, relaxing her body as it exhaled.

The blonde gasped as the man above him drove his knee into his stomach, hard and sharp pain coursed through his entire chest. Unable to take any more abuse at the current moment, Yamato wretched forward, his mouth opening and spewing bile all over his tormentor's expensive suit.

"You son of a bitch," the man screamed, jumping away from Yamato. He frantically started wiping at the evidence of the would-be drug dealer's agony, dropping the weapon in the process. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Before he had a chance to make good on that threat, a wrenching sound of a man screaming in close proximity to them tore their full attention back to the woman. The man with the club had tired to overpower her, charging at her like a bull, but unfortunately for him that meant getting close to her…

…and the dagger she had just stabbed straight through his throat. The man staggered back, the blade poking through the back of his neck, clutching at his throat, unable to make any sound save for an odd gurgling noise. That was around the time he made his second big mistake: he wrenched the dagger out of his body.

The second the dagger had been torn out, blood gushed from the wound in a spray. He collapsed to the floor, struggling and failing to breathe, as the sound of him chocking on his own blood filled the enormous space. His body jerked in a desperate attempt at life, but finally rested for good, dark eyes rolling up back into his skull.

"You killed him," whispered the other Spartan, blinking in shock. "Sweet Mother of God, you actually killed him."

She gave him cold eyes, blank eyes, that spoke to everyone still living in the warehouse: _he was a bastard. He had it coming. I'm not guilty._ The second grunt screamed, high and wordless, rage and pain too strong to speak of, and foolishly ran at her, apparently not learning a thing from his partner's death.

He arched his left arm back, his fist going so powerfully that it would knock the more delicate woman unconscious…It never connected. His great, meaty fist swung at the air where the masked woman was simply not standing there anymore.

He stood there blinking stupidly before turning around and getting kicked square in the face. The force of the attack hefted the much taller, larger man off his feet entirely and through the glass window behind him.

The glass shattered into thousands of tiny projectiles that struck the fallen man. His skin was torn by scratches, his face was completely torn up by the combination of the shards and power of the kick, and his head connected with the alley wall. He slumped on the trash-strewn, wet alley ground and stayed there, not so much as breathing.

The woman turned on her heels, focusing entirely on the last of Yamato's assailants. Now standing alone, stripped off help, and the full weight of the woman's gaze upon him, he gulped, terror seizing hold of his actions.

"Please…please…don't…"

He trailed off abruptly as the woman held up a hand for silence, mask hiding any hint of what she was feeling. Finally after a moment that stretched for an eternity she ordered, "Run." Not needing to be told twice he dashed forward, running faster than ever before, but she caught him in the chest with her arm.

"What-,"

She cut him off once again and spoke casually as though not having disposed of two men much more physically imposing than herself. "Tell them that it's over. I'm coming for them."

And with that she picked him up with one hand as though he weighed no more than a rag doll and flung him across the room, towards the door. His feet hit the ground and he took off, the large metal door slamming behind him, cutting them both off from the outside world.

Yamato propped himself up on his elbows and observed silently as she retrieved the dagger, pulling out a red handkerchief to wipe the blood off the blade. "Who are you?"

"A woman wearing a mask."

"I know that!" he yelled indignantly as she, now finished cleaning the dagger, hid it once again in its hiding place under her coat. "But who are you?"

Her lips twitched upwards in an amused smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Asking a woman wearing a mask who she is as pointless as standing in a dessert and waiting for rain. Disappointing too…"

But Yamato was not about to let the subject drop, no, he was never someone to just let things go easily. "Okay…than what's your name?"

But his hero was obviously either extremely playful or was really a closet sadist. With a dramatic flick of her hand, she whipped out a deep red rose from the inner folds of her coat. She breathed in the aroma and recited, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet."

She turned her back on him, not noticing the startled expression he made, and bent down to the man she had stabbed. Still not paying any mind to the injured young man behind her, she placed the rose on the dead man's chest, its red color blending well with his blood.

"A rose…but roses went extinct after **The War**!"

"Now you must ask yourself the question how roses could have gone extinct if I grow them." He glowered and she titled her head back with a way too pleasant smile. "And you are..."

"Ishida Yamato," he said before glaring at her for still not telling him her identity. "And what the fuck's with you? Do you just go around, looking for people to save?"

"Oh much more than that."

His contempt only grew. "You're a save the day hero. All good always wins against evil and the rest of that crap. I can't stand people like you."

"Such a charmer. I'm really glad I saved your life, Yamato."

"Sorry." He grimaced as his right leg screamed with the pain of trying to hold up as he stood. "I'm being a bastard."

"Yes, you are," she replied rather bluntly. He stumbled and she wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him. "But luckily for you I happen to be a bitch. So don't worry about offending me." And she giggled at that like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"…you're fucking out of your mind."

"That's what they tell me." A pause and she rested her head on his shoulder, her hair touching his cheek, and he tensed up. "Now would you like to come with this crazy person who you just so happen to owe your life to?"

"Go where?"

"A tribute…to justice."

* * *

The next ten minutes after that wonderful little conversation was a blur of images and sounds to Yamato. He was sort of aware that the slender, delicate looking woman was carrying him over her shoulder, not caring about his injured masculine pride, and at the same time was jumping from building to building.

His ocean eyes were shut tight against the wind and pelting rain and his hands were balled into fists against her back. The air pressure was forcing his ears to pop painfully and his teeth were grinding against each other to the point where his entire mouth was softly aching.

And just as soon as it started it stopped. She dropped him unceremoniously on his ass on top of a cold roof, turning deaf ears to his groans, and leaned her upper body over the edge.

"You see that building across from us? Do you know what it is?"

He followed her gaze to study the tallest building against the Tokyo skyline; it was the uniform drab, joyless grey and was utterly unremarkable in and of itself. A large black banner was draped across it, depicting the symbol of VulcanForge: a large scarlet letter V in front of a letter F.

"Yeah, that's the Spartans' headquarters."

She sighed, rolling her eyes up to the heavens. "Yamato, you just don't get it…but you will. You will…"

Her attention shifted from him to the building and he leaned in closer to her, close enough to hear her whisper, "I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or the time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?"

"What are you talking about?"

She didn't give him a verbal response and instead gestured at the building as a thunderous explosion rocked it. Yamato was thrown back by its force, feeling the heat from it, and it partially collapsed, kicking up a huge amount of dust.

Another explosion occurred and the building imploded in on itself; completely deteriorating into a mass or ruble. Huge flames flickered up to the sky as it fell through on its legs, and the rain was being absolutely no help in impeding their path, consuming everything and threatening to spread to the other buildings surrounding it.

When Yamato was sure he had regained speech he asked, "You did that, didn't you?" His voice was surprisingly calm given the subject matter.

"Yes."

"But…you…how…" His face was drained of its natural coloring and he shakily grabbed onto the roof's edge, not sure if he could manage not to fall off and kill himself.

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. Remember that Yamato."

He blinked, turned his face to the wreckage where a crowd of people was already forming, and started at her again with one golden eyebrow arched. "You really did that?"

"Auh huh."

"…wow…just wow." His lips formed a secret grin which she made not of and he commented, "I always wanted to do that. Sons of bitches..."

Her smaller, warmer hand slid into his larger one, catching him unawares, and she pulled him forward. "C'mon…let's get outta here before more Spartans come."

"I still don't know what your name is."

"Tachikawa Mimi. Not that it really matters."

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes**  
"_What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet."_ -Romeo and Juliet, Act Two, Scene Two.

"_I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or the time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?" _–Hamlet, Act Three, Scene One

"_There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."_-Hamlet, Act Two, Scene Two

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **What do you all think of this chapter? I'm not sure if I did it very well…Please read and review.


	4. Two Faces of Reality

**Author's Notes: **Yes, I'm a fan of Shakespeare, with Hamlet and A Midsummer Night's Dream as my favorites. Expect quotes from both of them to pop up.

Why did I choose Mimi for this role and not someone else? I decided that character was going to be female so that ruled out the guys. Sora and Hikari aren't flamboyant enough for the role and they're both too serious for it too, besides I find Hikari to be too submissive in certain situations, though she does have strong moments since she's Taichi's younger sister. Miyako is too hotheaded and reckless.

I think Mimi is a character with a strong personality as well. She stands up for what she believes in and out of all the characters she is one of the two that I think are good leaders with the other being Daisuke. (Sorry Taichi fans, I just don't think he was all that good of a leader.) Look at all the Digimon that traveled with her and followed her into battle in the Dark Masters Saga. They stayed with her, not only because they wanted to save the Digital World, but because she was with them.

Mimi also has a personality that draws people to her, which as you will see is needed for the story. And the way she's going about all of this will be explained later.

* * *

"_In our world, there can only be triumph and self-abasement. Everything else, we will destroy."_-O'Brien, Nineteen Eighty-Four

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Three**  
_Two Faces of Reality_

This had to be the strangest thing to happen to Yamato since…ever.

After another terrifying, gravity forsaking ride in the air above Japan, in which his masculine pride recovered somewhat by holding onto Mimi's arm and not being carried over her shoulder, he found himself in some deserted part of the city. And if that was not enough he had been blindfolded and lead by her to some secret place.

Blindfolded and being led by a woman almost a foot shorter than himself. See the problem here?

Gritting his teeth, he asked for the tenth time, "Do I really need to be blindfolded?" He shrugged his shoulders, where her hands had been placed, in agitation she sighed deeply.

"Yes, for the hundredth time, yes! I can't allow you to know where exactly I live. Too dangerous…"

He growled lowly to himself and she slapped him on the back of his head in retaliation. His growl deepened into a low scream and he exclaimed, "What the hell was that for?"

"For being an ungrateful, pain in the ass," was the swift reply filled with poorly disguised frustration.

"…I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

There was no way he could possibly reply to that statement and the two lapsed into a silence that was only awkward to him. He dared not open his mouth again for fear of being stranded by her, and to break the quietness she began to sing under her breath.

Even at the low range she was doing he could tell her voice was beautiful and he could just make out the words, "_Anarchy! Revolution, justice, screaming for solutions, forcing changes, risk, and danger, making noise and making pleas!" _

Before he could ask what she was exactly singing she announced, "We're here!" And she gently shoved him inside and closing the door behind both of them as it sounded. "Feel free to take off the blindfold."

He untied the blue fabric slowly and let it drop helplessly to the floor where it landed soundlessly. In an awed silence, he took in his surroundings with wide eyes, and his mouth opened and closes uselessly.

The first floor, as it appeared to be, was circular and large enough for fifty apartments the size of his to fit inside and be comfortable. Movie advertisements hung from the nearly invisible ceiling, showing off the titles: _RENT, 1984, John Q, Romeo and Juliet, _and _The Crow_. The walls were a light robins' egg blue and the floor was covered in a thick, well taken care of rug of the same color.

Paintings by artists he vaguely remembered as Max Ernst, Monet, Rembrandt, and Van Gough adorned the walls as well as framed quotes. There was, he had to rub his eyes to make sure he hadn't imagined it, an actual stone fireplace with a comfortable armchair, matching the colors of the walls and rug, placed in front of it. In the center of the room was a metallic, circular staircase that wound up into the darkness above it.

"Where are we," he finally asked after a few moments of finding his voice.

"This is Wonderland. My home."

"Okaaay."

She suddenly appeared at his shoulder and he fought the strong urge to recoil from the close proximity. "You can enter any room throughout my home…except for one."

"Yours," he guessed.

She pressed closer to him on impulse, and she craned her head so it was only a few inches away from his neck. Her breath was warm on his flesh, rising goosebumps along his skin, and she whispered, "No, my door's always open. Feel free to come in anytime."

And just before he could say something sensical she pressed her lips against his quickly. He was just about to get into the kiss before she pulled away and ran up the staircase, laughing insanely.

"_What have I gotten myself into?"_

* * *

Sakuma Akito was not known as a man who took things lying down. No, he was someone that would confront the problem, whatever it was, find its weakness, and crush it into oblivion. That was the way he operated and always would. And seeing as he was the leader of an entire country his hands-on approach to life seemed to be working just fine for him.

He was tall and sophistically handsome in the way some older men are. His hair was a thick and healthy black, partly graying at the temples, and tickled the base of his neck. Cold, intelligent blue eyes stared out of a sculpted face with only a few wrinkles at the ends of his eyes hinting at his actual age. His body was the hard lean of an athlete as he had kept up with exercise and diet for years and was clothed in an expensive black suit tailored especially to fit him.

His office in Aetna, the headquarters of the government, was spacious and furnished to the teeth. His desk was oak wood and polished so carefully that it reflected the entire room and his revolving chair was black. A mini-bar was located on the left and in the center of the room was a metallic base in the shape of a circle. The walls were a sea green with a few pictures hanging on them.

With an exasperated look he collapsed into his chair and sighed, "Red Queen."

From the metallic base red computer generated particles floated upwards and molded into the shape of a woman. The hologram woman was beautiful with long flowing hair, a high cheekboned face with long eyelashes and full lips, a slender figure, and wore an elegant looking gown.

"Yes," she answered in an oddly soothing voice for a computer program.

"Contact the Heads of the Departments of Mystery, Law Enforcement, War, and Media and Surveillance. Tell them it's urgent."

The image of the Red Queen disappeared to be replaced by four windows that resembled computer screens and floated in the air next to each other. The next second inside the windows, the backdrop of separate offices appeared with one person behind the desk in each.

"I suppose you all know why I called you here today," spoke Akito, forgoing any words of greeting. "Late last evening a terrorist killed two Spartans and subsequently blew up their base of operations." His eyes narrowed into a glare. "Now please tell me we have at least some idea of just what is going on."

"Permission to speak, sir," replied Takenouchi Sora, the Head of the Department of Mysteries known as Minerva. Sora was notably the only female head of a department in VulcanForge and also the youngest at age twenty-five.

He nodded consent and she continued, "According to my Department's questioning of last night's sole eye witness we have obtained a physical portrait of the terrorist. The terrorist is a masked woman-,"

"A masked woman," snorted twenty-six Kido Jyou, Head of Erinyes, or as it was more commonly known as the Department of Law Enforcement. "What is this? A manga?"

Going on as though she hadn't been interrupted at all, she reported, "Probably in her early to mid-twenties, light almost delicate build, long brown hair, eyes of the same color, and apparently almost inhumanely strong. From this information as well as the fact that our psychologist believes her to be pathologically insane, I would suggest to proceed with the utmost caution."

"My Department can handle it," announced Jyou confidently.

Sora arched an eyebrow. "If you mean your precious Spartans, I'd rethink that if I were you. Seeing as they failed to notice the presence of explosives in their own building."

"Everyone please," interceded Sakuma, cutting off Kido before he could say some rude remark. "If we start fighting amongst ourselves the terrorist will achieve what she wants: chaos."

He titled his head to the right to acknowledge Sohma Kira, Head of Aries the Department of War, and Shindou Ryuichi, Head of Muses the Department of Media and Surveillance.

"Sohma-san, I need you to devise a profile of the tactics of this terrorist, see if you can find some clue to where she'll strike again, as well as monitoring all overseas conflicts. Shindou-san find a way to cover this mess up if you can. Remind the people that they need us."

The two departed without a farewell and he turned back to regard the two youngest officials. "Takenouchi-san I need you to personally investigate this matter and Kido-san you must up the country's level of security. That is all. Japan prevails."

The two repeated his last words and signed off as well, leaving Sakuma all by his lonesome. He swiveled his chair around to stare out the large window overlooking Tokyo and whispered, "I'll show you what terror means."

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes**  
_What Mimi was singing: _Mimi was singing a line from the song, "La Vie Boheme B," from the play RENT. This part of the song was used in celebration of a riot partly started by the character Maureen.

_Mimi's home: _The appearance of Mimi's home serves to purposes in the story. The first is a little of how life used to be like and the second is a promise that it is possible for life to return to what it was.

_Wonderland: _The reference to the Lewis Carroll book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is to show that her home would be like a wonderland to the submissive, government-abiding populace. It also indicates that Yamato is the "Alice" of the story.

_The appearance of Sakuma Akito: _I was tired of the old, stereotypical thought that if someone is a villain that they must therefore be ugly. Such as the original view of the Wicked Witch of the West before the book/musical Wicked. It is also a contrast to the god Vulcan, who is very ugly.

_Aetna: _Mount Aetna in Sicily was supposedly the home of Vulcan's forge.

_The Red Queen: _The Red Queen was a character in the Lewis Carroll book, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. In the story she challenged Alice to a game of chess with the promise that if Alice won she would be given a throne. After defeating her, Alice wakes up from her "dream".

_Minerva: _Minerva (Athena) is the goddess of wisdom, war, and crafts.

_Erinyes: _In mythology the Erinyes were in a group of deities known as Chthonians, who inhabited either earth or the underworld. Also known as Furies, they were female spirits that sought vengeance against mortals who committed specific crimes.

_Aries: _Aries (Mars) is the god of war.

_Muses: _The Muses were the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (Memory). They each presided over a different art of science.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **That's all for right now. Please read and review. I'll try to update more frequently but that will be somewhat difficult since this story is both my heaviest and the one I have to research the most.


	5. The Voice

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

"_I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."_-Voltaire

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Four**  
_The Voice_

Yagami Hikari paced the floor of the lobby of Minerva, occasionally glancing at the watch on her left wrist or mumbling under her breath. The secretary stationed by the door of Sora's office was giving her a very strange look until she glared at the woman, who hurriedly busied herself with some forms on her desk.

With a heavy sigh she slumped into one of the several unoccupied chairs and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes flickered to a mirror across from her and she nervously checked her appearance.

Hikari was pretty with dark brown hair reaching to mid-back, pale skin, and deep chocolate eyes. She was athletic though a little on the scrawny side but the spark of determination in her sharp orbs would be enough to convince almost anyone not to mess with her. She wore a light brown jacket, a white blouse with the first two buttons undone, a long jean skirt, and black heeled boots. Her lips were brought out with pink lipstick and lilac eye shadow outlined her eyes.

She wrung her hands in her lap, the fingers of her left hand tapping against the knuckles of the right, and fell back into her own little world. So caught up in her thoughts she didn't notice that the actual Head of Minerva stood in front of her until the older woman coughed.

Jumping about five inches in her chair she gazed into the neutral face of Takenouchi Sora, her brother's ex and in some wacky twist of face her partner in the terrorist case. Sora was beautiful in a girl-next-door way with short, just shoulder-length auburn hair, bright ruby eyes edged with black eye liner and eye shadow, naturally tan skin, and an amply muscled frame from years of police work and training.

Sora was dressed casually, as usual, in a black leather jacket, a black long sleeved shirt under it, blue jeans that were so well taken care of that they looked brand new, and black sneakers with white laces and checks on the sides. A silver crucifix dangled around her neck, popping out of her shirt, and a shoulder holster holding a Firestar hung from her left shoulder, crossed over her chest, and hit against her right hip.

The detective merely stared down at her, ruby orbs blank, revealing no emotion. Hikari scrambled to her feet, extending her hand in the process. "Yagami Hikari. I'll be working with you on this case."

For one long, tense moment Sora did not move to shake her hand and Hikari began to lower it. Surprisingly the other female grabbed it at the last minute and stated, "The pleasure is mine." Her eyes flickered to Hikari's face as the two broke contact and the brunette fought the strong urge to recoil even farther.

Sora's eyes seemingly took in every single detail of Hikari's face, memorizing every inch in just one glance. The brunette shivered, feelings as all of her past failings were being read by the other, and she sighed in relief when Sora finally looked away.

"Your first case, huh?"

She blinked. "Yeah…how did you…"

The corners of Sora's mouth twitched upwards, almost forming a smile. "You don't have a blank, cop face yet. I can read you easily."

"I…"

"Are you Taichi's sister?"

"Um yeah," she muttered, frowning. "Did he show you a picture of me or something? I know we never met while you two were dating."

"You have his eyes."

Before Hikari could reply, Sora had turned on her heel and strode out of the department leaving the younger girl little choice but to follow her. The rest of the way, to wherever the other was leading her, was spent in a frosty silence.

* * *

The Department of Muses is the busiest out of all the other Departments in Aetna. Techies and camera men bustled around from place to place, almost colliding with reporters and journalists alike and scattering pages of the latest news coverage all over the floor. There were a few actors from government approved television shows and movies asking questions before rushing off to their respective sets.

The room was rectangular and divided into rows of cubicles; the walls were painted a sickly green color and only one or two pictures of the ocean were placed on them. As Sora lead Hikari through the room, avoiding crashing into several people, the brunette looked into them. They contained a desk, with or without someone behind it, as well as a small built in computer and piles of paperwork but they differed from each other in one way: what the occupants put on their walls. Some had snapshots of their families or friends, others clippings from newspapers, and still others had rather miscellaneous decorations; they passed a man whose décor consisted of cuttings of comic strips.

Finally Sora motioned for Hikari to follow her into the largest cubicle with a name plate reading Inoue Miyako on it. At first glance she thought the space to be unoccupied. A computer and heaps of computer parts and other technological devices had been piled on top of the desk, blocking the view of the other side of the room. So she was startled when a face poked around at them from above the unorganized mess.

"Can I help- Oh Takenouchi it's you! ….and…Takenouchi's friend."

A woman around twenty-three years old stood from the hidden chair behind the desk and Hikari had to straighten up to have eye contact with her; Miyako was taller than average for a woman. She was all extremely slim with lightly tanned skin, long lavender colored hair that flowed an inch or two past her waist, a pretty oval face and hazel eyes hidden behind large glasses. She wore a light blue bandanna with white flower designs, a grey tee shirt, baggy black jeans, a black sweatshirt wrapped around her waist, and black combat boots.

She nodded at Sora and looked questioningly at Hikari who practically jumped to say, "Yagami Hikari."

She nodded and her eyes flickered to Sora's face. "New partner, huh?" Before either of the other two could answer she plowed on, "And I suppose you're hear to hear what Shindou's got to say about the terrorist."

The auburn haired woman smiled faintly. "Read my mind, Inoue."

"C'mon," replied Miyako, grabbing a ring of keys from somewhere under the mess and lead them down the corridor to a room on the far left. Jamming one of the silver keys inside she pushed the door open and slammed it shut once they were inside.

The room was dark with the only light coming from the many television screens built into the right wall. A black, revolving chair rested in front of the screens and Miyako collapsed into it, spinning it to the left. Blue light reflected off the lenses of her glasses giving her an unsettling look and the other two opted to stand a few feet behind her.

"Shindou's gonna be on in about a minute or two. That man's got some voice I tell you! Really strong…no wonder Sakuma chose him be the head of department after the war."

Every image on the screen was replaced of that with a man standing behind a podium, ready to give a speech. Miyako whispered, "It's a beautiful thing. The destruction of individual thought."

* * *

Three days later and the terrorist had not struck again, although young Kido had upped the amount of Spartans on duty so much that they could now be seen stationed on street corners. Three days with no trouble.

Shindou Ryuichi congratulated himself on a job well done. His rousing speech had obviously backed the woman into a corner and with the heightened police force there would be no way in hell she would try anything. Now all that was left for her was to fade into the background and life could go on.

He frowned; they were all being a bunch of pansies. If it were up to him, the government wouldn't have busied itself with stopping her but with catching her and locking her away for good. He sighed loudly since it wasn't up to him and grabbed the CD player with a recording of his speech before heading out of the office.

After saying farewell to the night watchman outside the building he turned the recording on. His powerful bellow of a voice filled his own ears:

"**_Japan, I have grave news. Yesterday's destruction was the act of a terrorist working to shatter every aspect of life in this country. This terrorist, reportedly a woman, is trying to destroy us from the inside, use fear against us." _**

Ryuichi was not an imposing man; he was just shy of five feet three inches with sallow skin, a slender build, curly black hair, a boyishly round face, and watery blue eyes. His nose looked like it had been broken and hadn't healed correctly and his lips were pale and thin. He wore a dark green coat, a black button up shirt, neatly pressed beige dress pants, and highly polished black shoes.

He was the type of man who had spent his entire childhood desperately out running the neighborhood bullies and being pounded into a bloody pulp whenever he wasn't fast enough. He was not athletic, he was not skilled in any one particular area despite being unusually brilliant, and if it were not for the fact that his voice had deepened considerably during puberty, he would not be running his own department.

"_**But we will not be cowered by terrorist threat. She thinks she can weaken us by cowardly, guerrilla warfare tactics, but I have news for her. If you are watching this know if you ever come after us again, I will show you what terror means!" **_

The recording ended and he switched it back on as he neared the street where his apartment building was located. Shivering he noticed that the area was oddly vacant, not even a single Spartan was in sight. Feeling shaken he hurried to reach the door of his building, not wanting to be out in the dark alone, but he never made it.

Two strong hands grabbed him by the hem of his coat and threw him into an adjacent alley. He landed with a loud thump on his back, staring up at the sky, and wondering what in the world had happened to him.

A face, no, a mask appeared above him, framed by a curtain of honey colored hair and he gulped as he stared into the eyes of the terrorist. "Who are you," he managed to choke out.

"I am the devil. And I have come to do the devil's work."

After that all he knew was darkness…

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes:**  
_The Departments_-Yes, the structure of the government is a nod to the Harry Potter Ministry of Magic.

"_It's a beautiful thing. The destruction of individual thought."_- This line was paraphrased from one by a character named Syme from George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. The original line was: "It's a beautiful thing. The destruction of words."

"_I am the devil. And I have come to do the devil's work."_- This is a quote from a famous murder case in the 1970's. I couldn't find the exact origin but I believe it was from the David Berokowitz, Son of Sam, trial.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **That's all for now. I should be able to update again soon…hopefully. Please read and review.


	6. Symbols

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

_

* * *

_

_"Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical."_-Blaise Pascal

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Five**  
_Symbols_

Two Spartans lay dead. Their headquarters had been blown up. And now this.

This was not boding well for Tokyo's finest.

Takenouchi Sora sighed deeply as she bent down on one knee to study the chalk outline of a body the height and weight of Ryuichi's drawn by one of the crime scene analysts. Behind Yagami Hikari stood, electronic notepad in hand, and yellow police barricades had been set up at the only entrance to the alley. Three uniformed Spartans were guarding the inside of the alley against the usual rubbernecks trying to catch a peek.

With another sigh she pulled on the white latex gloves she carried at almost all times and asked Hikari, "No one saw anything?"

The brunette shook her head while studying the pad. "No. There was no one on the street last night at the time Shindou-san was abducted."

"What about the Spartan that was on call last night? He should've been right outside the building."

"The terrorist knocked him unconscious."

"How?" Sora asked, ready to straighten up but stopped abruptly as something red caught her eye just behind one of the knocked over garbage cans. She crab walked around the outline and investigated whatever was behind the trash can.

"Well, that's the strange part," she commented, staring at Sora with an arched eyebrow. "She didn't hit him or anything; he says she just touched him somewhere on his neck. The next thing he remembers is waking up about an hour later."

"Interesting," she mumbled as she reached out and retrieved one, perfect, red rose from its hiding place. "She must have some kind of martial arts training…since she used pressure points."

Hikari gasped, not entirely hearing Sora's last observation, as her gaze was fixed solely on the flower in the other's hand. "A rose…those are supposed to be extinct!"

"Apparently not." She stumbled somewhat clumsily to her feet, wiping some grime off her jeans as she did. "C'mon. There's nothing we can do here now."

"What do you think about all this?"

Sora sighed deeply, something she apparently did often around people of the surname Yagami. "I've seen worse, much worse than this. But this case bothers me more than any of the others I've worked on."

"Why?"

"Because my other cases were committed by people who were sadistic, yes, but the woman doing these is much more than that. Most of the other people were normal everyday people who didn't give a damn about anything they did.

"But she isn't normal and everything she's done so far indicates she cares a great deal about all of this. It's personal for her and that's scary."

"Why?"

"Because, Hikari, this isn't just terrorism. It's vengeance."

* * *

Yamato roughly figured that he had been in Mimi's home for about three or four days. Three or four days in which he hadn't seen or heard from Mimi; for the first while he'd worried that he'd angered her, or she didn't care about what happened to him. Now he had resolved not to care about her or anything she decided regarding him.

It had worked so far.

Since Mimi wasn't giving him the benefit of her company he had taken to exploring the intriguing prison he found himself in. As his captor had stated there was only one door he so far could not enter, no matter how hard he tried to break the lock. (It also turned out that it wasn't Mimi's room either. He had stumbled upon that earlier in the day.) He had grown bored to trying to get through the door and had continued on his way to discover, among other things, a home movie theater, an indoor gym, and a library.

The library had found to be the most interesting for him. It was a circular room with one window peering out to the west and walls painted a light blue. Book shelves ran across the walls laden with well taken care of books with different sections marked off by white cards. To his joy this room also held a fireplace with a comfortable red armchair in front of it; there was an oak table next to it and the floor was carpeted in blue with red designs in the fabric.

There were five books placed on the table next to the chair, having been read previously, and he prowled the section of books marked "Government and Politics" with curiosity. On the row he was currently inspecting the book on the far right was called _Mein Kampf_ by a man named Adolph Hitler and the one on the far left was a book called _What is Property? _written by a man named Pierre-Joseph Proudhon.

"You must love reading Yamato," spoke a feminine voice from the doorway. "You seem very interested in my collection, at least."

He spun around to see Mimi floating across the room to stand next to him and despite the way she ignored him he gave her a genuine smile. "Yeah…I haven't even heard of most of these. Where'd you find them?"

"Lots of places…"

He arched an eyebrow. "Did you steal them?"

"Property is theft."

He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde locks. "Should've known you'd say something like that. Still…what exactly are you trying to do?"

She didn't answer for a few long moments, just stared at him consideringly. "There is something very wrong with Japan," she answered finally after a moment. "You should know that as well as anyone, but no one ever tries to stop those responsible, our beloved government. That's where I come in."

"And you think you can just change everything by blowing up buildings?"

"They're not just buildings Yamato! They are symbols; the more people that support them, the more powerful they are. That's why blowing them up can change so much…"

"And when has change every done something good for this world?" He frowned deeply. "People are selfish, evil and will repeat the same mistakes over and over. Even if you change anything it's just going to happen all over again. There is no saving us."

Disappointed cinnamon eyes bored holes into his jaded cerulean ones and calmly, quietly she walked away from him. He smirked. "What? Finally realize the truth, Mimi?"

"No, I'm just too disgusted right now to think about how someone so smart doesn't have enough brain power to hope."

And she had the nerve to disappear before he could retaliate.

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes:**  
_The books on the shelf- _The books are supposed to represent the right and left sides of politics. The book on the far right symbolizes fascism the extreme right wing policy and the one on the far left represents anarchy, the extreme left wing policy.

_What is Property?-_This was a work published in the year 1840 by Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, who is widely considered the first self-proclaimed anarchist.

"_Property is theft."_-This is a quote from Pierre-Joseph Proudhon.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **Sorry this chapter was so short, but it's mostly a setup for the next one. Please read and review.


	7. The Girl in Room Epsilon

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

"_Evil deeds do not prosper; the slow man catches up to the swift."_-Homer,_ Odyssey_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Six**  
_The Girl in Room Epsilon _

Several hours after his capture, Shindou Ryuichi groggily returned to the waking world shackled to a chair by his arms and legs and being held in an almost pitch dark room. His panicked eyes filtered from one corner of the immense space to another, just making out blurry shapes merely feet away from him, and he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"I don't know what you're playing at," he screamed as he regained his nerve. "But you had better stop it this instant! You will not get away with this!"

He did not receive a verbal response, instead the terrorist turned on the lights. With a gasp he covered his stinging eyes from the overwhelming light, and after a minute of adjusting to the setting change, he lowered them. Just as quickly he wanted to shield his face with them again.

He was not wearing his clothes from the day before but dark blue military fatigues. A few medals had been pinned to his shirt, signifying the rank of Commander, and black leather boots reached up to his knees; the shoes had been shined to the exact military standard and his hair had been changed into a buzz cut. His glasses had been removed as well and he was surprised to find contacts in their place.

Still the most horrifying thing in the room was not his change in appearance but the structure only feet away from him…

A large barbed wire fence surrounded a rectangular perimeter, taking up most of the space in the room. Inside the area of the fence were five different military and prison style compounds set up at strategic points. In the left corner was a tall wooden watchtower complete with searchlight and a good portion of the perimeter was empty space serving as a courtyard. At the top of the fence, right above the entrance, was a metal sign stating in fading letters, 'Kyoto Resettlement Camp'.

His blood turned cold in his veins and suddenly a task as simple as breathing seemed to be the most taxing job in the world. "Real trip down memory lane isn't it, Commander Shindou?"

He strained his neck to watch as Mimi strode confidently up to him, her emotions hidden by the mask she always wore. She stopped when she stood next to him on the left side, her body positioned to observe the camp and not him.

"It's been awhile since the government closed down the concentration, opps, I mean resettlement camps…do you think you can still remember your way around?"

Ryuichi found his voice. "I don't know how you got this idea into your head, woman, but I have never now or in the past been involved with the resettlement camps! You've got the wrong-,"

"Kyoto, 2019. I was there Commander…I remember you."

"Bullshit," he claimed, clinging to his last bit of safety net. "If you were there as you claim prove it!"

Wordlessly she rolled the sleeve of her leather coat up to her elbow on her left arm and extended her slender forearm for him to examine. In the center of her soft, pale flesh the number 101 had been branded and in stunned disbelief he ran his eyes along it. The number had faded slightly in fifteen years but was still legible.

"Oh God….you were there…you were there…"

She smirked, giving him an "I told you so" look, before rolling her sleeve back down and stating, "C'mon. Let's start that tour of the old camp."

Not able to speak, he simply stared ahead as she wheeled the chair towards the entrance and gently pushed the gates open. She pushed him over to the largest and most accommodating looking building and titled him towards the courtyard.

"Every morning you'd leave your quarters and inspect the camp. You'd start by walking over to the courtyard where the prisoners were once lined up." She continued the narrative as she brought him towards the area, "Most of them were half-dead from disease or dehydration or dysentery. Some of them were beaten so bad they couldn't stand at all…"

She continued to pull him along, mentioning little things about the soliders' barracks and the state of the prisoners' quarters, when he plucked up his courage. "Listen I know we did some things that could be considered unethical but we did what we had to do! The country was being overrun by homosexuals, immigrants, degenerates…it was us or them! Us or them! Please understand!"

"Oh, I understand. I understand perfectly well." She halted their progress and nodded at a row of five rooms, each labeled with a different Greek numeral. "And here we have the medical ward…"

He paled considerably as she walked them past the doors. "No…"

"You used to call us the lab rats…had your doctors pump us full of your new experimental drugs! One by one…alpha, beta, gamma, delta, and epsilon."

She halted in front of the door marked "epsilon" and his breath hitched in his breath in sudden realization. His eyes bulged and he gripped the arms of the chair tightly; if this woman was truly who he believed her to be, he was in deep trouble.

"You-you-you're the little girl from epsilon aren't you!"

She smiled bitterly down at him. "In the flesh." She gripped his face with her left hand so violently she left nail marks on his skin. "I'm flattered you remember me. I'll never forget any of you either, but that's expected. I thought I was just another prisoner to you…"

"Mercy…please…have mercy…"

"And how many people have thrown themselves at your feet, begging for the same thing?" He flinched at her tone and she pulled back from him, rifling through her pockets for something. "But to be fair you've never seen any of your accomplishments first hand...don't worry I'll fix that. Now where did I put…ah!"

She held a roll of silver duct tape a few inches away from her face, examining it carefully. "Here it is…"

* * *

He was not getting paid enough to do this. Thirty year old Kanbara Takyua glared at the softly raining world through his pair of Spartan visors. He was thirty years old for shit's sake; he should've gotten a promotion by now!

But no, he had to stand outside in the rain, guarding Aetna from the terrorist. He frowned; if the terrorist did show up she'd probably drop him where he stood if her reputation with Spartans held even the slightest truth.

He cursed as a drop of rain landed square in his eye and turned around to light a cigarette when…

…he came face to face with the terrorist. He was just about to yell for back up when she clamped a hand over his mouth and made a quiet shushing noise. She titled her head towards the adjacent alley, indicating with her eyes there was something there for him to see, before disappearing into thin air.

He blinked, unsure of what had just happened was virtual or real…deciding he had nothing better to do, he crept towards the alley and peered into it.

Than he abruptly called for back up…

* * *

"Epsilon…epsilon…epsilon…epsilon…"

Shindou Ryuichi leaned back in the straight-backed witness chair a broken man. His upper body had been locked inside a grey straight jacket and his black hair was wild and tangled. Sweat condensed on his forehead and his eyes stared holes through people and objects without really seeing them; there were large red marks below and above each of his eyes, as though someone had used duct tape to hold them open. The only time he spoke now was when he whispered that mantra under his breath.

"Is that all he says?" asked Sora from behind the one-way glass of the integration room.

Dr. Izumi Koushirou, resident psychologist for Minerva, sighed gravely and ran a hand through his short red hair. His obsidian eyes gazed inside at Ryuichi and he stuffed his hands in his black suit jacket pockets.

"Now that's all he'll say. Before it was 'Kyoto' 'Resettlement Camp' and 'girl from room epsilon'. What do you think it means?"

"Nothing good."

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes:**  
_The number 101-_ I used that as another reference to George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. Room 101 contained the "most terrible thing on earth" and was how the thought police would finally break "criminals".

_Alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon-_ Those are numbers one through five in the Greek alphabet.

_Ryuichi's state-_ Ryuichi's state at the end of the chapter is a nod towards Jonathon Crane's (Scarecrow's) mental state at the end of Batman Begins. This is also how one of the characters in V for Vendetta was dealt with in the graphic novel version; though I have put a bit of my own spin on his descent to madness.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Notes: **I hope this chapter explained a little of why Mimi is doing the things she's doing. Though it's not the whole story…Please read and review.


	8. The Hedgehog's Dilemma

**Author's Notes: **Okay this chapter isn't going to be too long. It's going to mostly focus on the relationships between Yamato and Mimi and Taichi and Sora. Sorry if you wanted another big action chapter.

* * *

"_Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means something can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a peace of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should just be friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love."_-Rose Walker, The Sandman 

* * *

**Chapter Seven**  
_The Hedgehog's Dilemma _

Yamato had awoken to the tantalizing odor of cooking food wafting in from under his door. His stomach grumbled with need and he debated whether he should go and eat breakfast with Mimi after the argument they had had the previous evening. Only after a painful ache from his stomach did he grudgingly propel his feet across the room to the door.

He paused as he pushed it open and examined himself in the mirror. His chest and feet were bare as he had chosen only to wear his jeans to bed. Did he want Mimi to see him without a shirt on? He scowled, deciding, and closed the door sharply behind him with a snap, not bothering to grab a shirt. So what if she saw him without it? It was his choice dammit!

His stomach continued to throb as he descended the staircase, following the scent, until he ended up at a door across from the main room he had been taken to when first brought him home. He pushed it open to find a small, black and white tiled kitchen with a metallic table and two chairs. A refrigerator was pushed up against the right wall and it along with the stove, sink, and dishwasher were all top of the line models.

Mimi, still wearing that mask but without the coat, stood in front of the stove, a frying pan in hand. She titled her face back as he approached her and she managed a small smile. "You're just in time."

She transferred the frying pan from over the stove to over a large plate on the counter and she piled a stack of pancakes on top of it. Without either speaking she placed the plate on the center of the table as he brought two smaller plates along with cutlery for them. She smiled again and retrieved a carton of orange juice and two glasses.

He piled a few onto his plate as she reached for her own and he dug into the meal delightedly. "Hmm…these are really good. I haven't had pancakes since I was a kid and my mom made them."

"Where's your mom now?"

His expression darkened. "Dead. My dad and brother are too." There was a heavy silence for a few moments until he asked, "What about your family?"

"I don't really know. They're probably dead by now, though."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. It wasn't your fault."

He looked at her from over his breakfast, really **looked **at her for the first time, and he almost reeled back at the sadness she so desperately tried to hide. Anger, a lot of anger, bitterness, grief, and loneliness tinged her cinnamon orbs. Even without a mirror he knew he carried the same mixture of emotions in his own gaze.

She felt his stare, and cerulean bored into cinnamon, as she matched his gaze defiantly. Not breaking the eye contact he stood and walked around the table until he was right in front of her in a perfect position to kiss her if he wanted.

"I haven't been this close to someone in a long time," she spoke.

"I know. Me too." He shifted suddenly, wishing he had put that shirt on, and continued, "This could just be the loneliness talking here but I have to know something. If I kiss you is that all it will be?"

"Would you prefer a lie or the truth?"

"Lie to me," he whispered and brushed his lips against hers. She responded fully, passionately, and she snaked one slender arm around his waist.

It didn't end up as just a kiss…

* * *

Yagami Taichi whistled a tune under his breath as he passed the very bored looking receptionist and slipped inside his sister's new office. Before the door closed behind him he saw the secretary give him a flirtatious smile and he winked at her.

Taichi was ruggedly handsome with wild, untamable dark brown hair, naturally tanned skin, big chocolate eyes, and a build that was not muscular or thin. His cheeks were rough with stubble as he hadn't felt like shaving that morning and he wore a black coat, a grey shirt, dark blue jeans spattered with oil from his job as a mechanic, and black boots.

As he shut the door behind him, his sister Hikari looked up startled and asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I thought I'd take my favorite sister to lunch, today."

"Taichi, I'm your only sister."

"Which is exactly why you're my favorite," he retorted with a grin, though it soon faded as he took in how pale his sister's complexion had turned. "Is that a problem?"

"NO! I just-,"

"Hikari, the take out's here!" called a familiar voice, that still sent shivers up his spine, and a second later Sora had opened the door. "C'mon or the best food'll be-,"

She stopped short as he noticed him and he smiled grimly. "Hey, Sora. Long time no see." She continued to stare at him, only briefly nodded, and he met that cold, ruby eyed gaze evenly, not backing down. Behind them Hikari tapped her fingers on her desk nervously, looking between them worriedly.

The air was tinged with the kind of bitterness that only came from two people who had once been in love. He was about to chock on the sweet, acrid pain working its way up his throat like bile, and he bit back many hurtful words he could say to her. But that would be horrible since it was obvious to anyone, including the two involved, that they were both still very much in love with each other.

Their breakup had been the worst day of his life.

Hers too.

Before anything could be said, Sora turned on her heel and hastily fled from the room, putting as much distance between them as possible. He stared after her for a few minutes before glaring at Hikari.

"You could've warned me!"

He stormed out as she was about to answer, not wanting to hear her feeble excuses. This was not going to be a good day…

* * *

**Footnotes:**  
_The hedgehog's dilemma_- The hedgehog's dilemma comes from the false idea that hedgehogs that have sharp pins on their backs will hurt each other if they get close. It states, likewise, that the closer two people come to each other, the more likely they are to hurt one another, but if they remain apart they will only feel loneliness.

_The Sandman_- This is one of my favorite comic books ever and is well worth a read. It's the story of Morpheus, the king of dreams, after he was held captive for seventy years by a cult trying to gain immortality. It chronicles how he must rebuild everything, bring back the nightmares and dreams that have escaped into the world, and his eventual downfall.

_Would you prefer a lie or the truth? -_ This is a quote from V in the movie version of V for Vendetta.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**I'm sorry this chapter was so short, but I wanted to explain more about some of the relationships in the story. Please read and review. 


End file.
